Patterns of Force: Aftermath
by Mazeykins
Summary: This is an alternate take on the episode, Patterns of Force, after the trio, Kirk, Spock and McCoy beam back upon the Enterprise.
1. Chapter 1

**Story takes place after "Patterns of Force"**

The planet was in good hands Kirk thought as he stepped off the transporter pad and walked over to the console manned by Lieutenant Kyle.

"Welcome back sir," said Kyle.

"Thank you Lieutenant," Kirk answered as he leaned against the console reaching for the intercom.

"Kirk to security."

"Giotto here captain."

"Commander Giotto, have a security team ready to go planet side in 10 minutes dressed in Nazi uniforms from Earth date 1944. Zeon patriots Eneg and Daras will meet you at the beam down point to help bring the body of John Gill home. Mr. Spock will brief you on the extraction and the mission's delicate nature."

"Understood captain. We'll bring him home. Giotto out."

Jim Kirk hovered his hand over the intercom switch then quickly cut the line. The corner of his mouth pulled and his face took on a wan expression. He still couldn't believe how his former instructor brought about a Nazi regime on Ekos. It was like having the rug pulled out from under him to see a person he so highly respected end up having such complete disregard for the prime directive and ultimately die in vain.

"Well Jim, I don't know about you but I could use a drink," said McCoy as he sidled over to the captain.

Kirk didn't even hear him; he was completely lost in thought until a slap on his right shoulder broke his mood sending shock waves of pain down his back and up his neck.

"Oh! Bonesss," Kirk hissed as he bit down hard on his lower lip and shrugged away from Bones' grip. He immediately pried his eyes open and let out a weak laugh. "Not so hard ok." His eyes met McCoy's and quickly straightened his back to play off his pain.

McCoy was no fool, he could read the captain like nobody else on the ship and quickly knew Jim was hiding something from him.

"Now, what in God's name was that all about?" cried McCoy. "What are you trying to hide?"

"Me?! Nothing, just muscular strain and you just happened to hit the sweet spot." Jim's left hand absently sneaked up to his right breast pressing into the muscle hoping to relieve the sting that set in.

McCoy eyed him suspiciously and was about to grill him with more questions but stopped the inquisition as Spock approached.

"Our captors beat the captain and no doubt his wounds have worsened."

Bones' eyes widened. "Beaten! What wounds? Jim, were you not going to tell me? I swear you can act so childish when it comes to your health."

"It's nothing serious Bones," Jim said sheepishly. "Just a few scrapes; nothing to worry about."

"With you Jim, I always worry. Now let me see." McCoy reached up to pull at Jim's lapel and immediately saw bloody streaks on the white collared shirt underneath.

"You call this nothing serious?!" McCoy glared at him eye to eye. The transporter room doors interrupted his berating the captain as the security detail finally filed in. He went on in a whisper, directed solely at Kirk. "Well, I do. Who knows what type of alien bacteria you've been exposed with…when did this happen?"

McCoy was trying to unbutton the white collared shirt when Jim grabbed his wrist to halt him. Jim had to admit, that ever since McCoy reminded him of his wounds, the pain was making itself known more and more. Every little movement was like ripping each lashing open over and over again.

McCoy peered into the eyes of his friend and saw the silent pain and pleading to not do this here, not now. He knew Jim was sensitive about letting his crew see him injured; see him vulnerable. Jim always felt the need to keep up appearances even while in pain. McCoy felt for him…he could never let his guard down.

"I don't know," Jim whined. "I lost track of time…doesn't matter. Besides, I'm not the only one….Spock is right there with me in the roughed up category."

With those words McCoy glanced over at Spock who by now was already giving orders to Commander Giotto as the security team took their places on the transporter pad.

"Energize Mr. Kyle," Spock ordered then turned towards the captain and the doctor and noticed both were looking at him.

"So you tattle on the captain, but can't even own up to your own injuries Spock?" said McCoy.

"Doctor, I know when my injuries are serious and not serious. I'm very capable of healing the lashings on my back with some time in a healing trance," Spock said bluntly.

"Lashings! You two are like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip! For once, can you just tell me what happened…to you BOTH…without me having to dance around the subject…."

"Not here Bones," Kirk said softly. "Mr. Kyle, keep me apprised of the security team and when they beam back aboard."

"Aye-aye captain."

With that, the trio headed out into the corridor with Bones' hand firmly on Kirk's elbow to make sure he was going to where he was going…sickbay.

The trio entered the turbolift. "Deck 5." McCoy ordered.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The sickbay doors whooshed open and it was Christine Chapel who had the pleasure to witness the boyish display of defiance that entered. She did her best to suppress a smirk at their rants…and her widened eyes as she took in their uniforms.

"Bones, would you…" Jim tried slapping away McCoy's hand that appeared on his elbow again guiding him into sickbay. "I'm here ok."

"Yes, you are…not without a struggle, as usual." McCoy snapped.

Jim twisted to face McCoy and continue, but he soon discovered that was a mistake as the movement pulled and tore at his back. His eyes crinkled and jaw clenched shut to stave off the cry that died on his tongue.

McCoy's eyebrow shot up as he noticed the captain's pained expression. "Just scrapes you said…yeah right. Christine, can you take a look at Spock while I handle _Captain Invincible_ here?"

Spock strode in behind the captain and doctor with his hands secured behind his back holding the Nazi hat. "Of course doctor," replied Chapel. She took a step towards the commander. "Mr. Spock, if you'll just come with me, then…"

Spock cut her off. "Nurse, as I told Doctor McCoy, I'm in no need of medical treatment…" He was, himself, in turn cut off by McCoy, who looked to be at his wits end dealing with the two of them.

"Yes, you are, you pointy-eared devil! If nothing else it is mandatory protocol for a physical exam to be performed after any hostile away mission, and even more so when I know you have been injured…no matter how small the injury. I don't care if it's just a damned paper cut, you'll have Nurse Chapel tend to it! Understood?!"

Spock's eyebrow angled up and with a tilt of his head, he conceded and followed Nurse Chapel to the nearest bio bed closest to where he stood.

"Touchy Bones?" Kirk asked rhetorically as he was led to a bio bed a few down from Spock's.

"Don't start Jim. Now, take a seat. I'll be right back. I have to take this off," McCoy started walking towards his office and slid his fingers in to undo the collar and pulled at the tie. "If you can believe it, this thing's worse than our dress uniforms." With that McCoy left to change into his Starfleet regs.

Jim was left alone and with nothing else to occupy his mind, his thoughts began wandering back to John Gill. It was such a waste of life. Even if the Nazi regime displayed all the qualities of one of the most organized governments, it ended up being one of the most brutal and horrific periods in Earth's history. Jim could only assume that Gill thought he could take elements of the Nazi infrastructure to bind this planet's fragmented society. Yet, history repeated itself and an innocent culture suffered and now had to be rebuilt. Jim hated the fact that Starfleet, by way of John Gill, was the cause of such a vast loss of Zeon life. He shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts and started to undress starting by tossing his hat onto a nearby chair. As he started unbuttoning his jacket McCoy came walking towards him.

"My God, that thing was itchy!" McCoy said as he made his way back to Jim. "I couldn't get out of that thing fast enough. Of course, had to literally cut the boot off."

McCoy noticed that Jim was still standing there fully dressed. He thought by now he'd at least have discarded the jacket.

"All right Jim, off with it," McCoy ordered as he gathered the medical instruments he may need.

Jim slowly unbuttoned the jacket and began to shrug it off when he stopped abruptly with a slight yelp. "Uh, Bones…" he hissed. "Could use a little help."

McCoy turned towards Jim. "Here. Let me." McCoy slowly eased the jacket off of Jim's shoulders and was surprised at how much blood had soaked through the back of the white collared shirt beneath.

"Oh Jim, I know that has to be painful," McCoy threw the jacket aside and looked back to see Jim was already slipping the tie from around his neck and unbuttoning the shirt.

"Although the guard did a very professionally job on my back…it probably looks worse than it actually feels," Jim tossed back as he finished with the last button. He was a little hesitant to what was to come next. His left hand reached up to push the shirt off his right shoulder and bit down on his lip as it began to tear away from the wounds.

"Aagh damn that hurts," Jim snapped and stopped trying to remove the shirt himself.

McCoy was too slow to stop Jim from trying to remove the shirt so quickly. "Jim, we're going to have to soak the shirt off with warm water. It will be a lot less painful that way. But first, I'm going to cut off what I can."

McCoy made quick work cutting off the sleeves and as much of the front and back as he could. "Now, hop up and lay down on your stomach," he said to Jim as he patted the bio bed.

Jim eased his way down onto his stomach as McCoy came back with a bowl of warm water and some absorbent cloths.

"Now this shouldn't take long."

Jim turned his head away from McCoy and laid his right cheek against the bed. It was cool against his skin and much welcomed as he had began to feel quite warm ever since walking into sickbay.

At first the warm wet cloth felt fantastic and Jim let his eyes close to enjoy the sensation. A few trickles of water, pink with the mix of blood, ran down the side of his neck, and the smell assaulted his senses, pulling him back in the now as he opened his eyes.

"Ok Jim, I'm going to start removing the shirt away from the wounds. How are you doing?" McCoy peered over at Jim's face to see if he could read anything.

"Fine Bones."

He started at Jim's shoulder and slowly began to peel away the soaking, now pink shirt. So far, so good, the shirt was coming away nicely. McCoy continued the slow and steady work, but when he pulled at a point near Jim's shoulder blade, it caused Jim to flinch with pain and elicit a small cry.

"I'm sorry Jim," McCoy once again looked up from his work to Jim's face and noticed beads of sweat breaking out and running down his temple. "Would you like a sedative?"

"Bones, just…get on with it." Jim's left hand that was lying on the side of the bed now gripped it, as it was his lifeline.

McCoy hesitated and picked up the wet cloth again and used it to dab at the wound to help pull the shirt away. It helped, but the fact that Jim's hand was now clawing the bed's mattress was not overlooked. A couple more troublesome spots made Jim grunt and his whole body tensed.

The final part near Jim's right hip came away without any problems, which was a relief to both doctor and patient.

As McCoy straightened up he and Jim both let out a collective and audible sigh. Only Jim's was a little stilted with pain.

The air that hit Jim's open wounds was like an itch that he couldn't scratch and he really didn't even want to think about scratching his back right now. He brought his left hand up to wipe at his brow but was stopped midway by a towel from McCoy as he began dabbing away.

"Jim, you're skin's really warm," stated McCoy. "Looks like you and some alien bugs got acquainted."

Jim huffed a soft laugh at McCoy's attempt at humor, but he was all of a sudden too tired for any comeback. As he lay there he could hear the soft whir of the medical tricorder.

"Your back is a complete mess; bacterial infection over 80% of the cuts. Slight fever, 99.8 degrees and you have a nice contusion over your right kidney. Now, how'd you get all this?"

Jim opened his eyes and slurred out a response. "Let's just say I had a one-sided conversation with a Nazi whip and when I tried to talk I was greeted with a billy club to my back."

"Well you should have kept quiet, because your kidney is bruised and functioning slightly below normal."

"Grreaat," Jim said as he once again closed his eyes.

"First things first," said McCoy as he gave Jim a hypo to combat the bacterial infection and temperature.

"Ow," Jim jumped as the hypo hit his neck.

Jim faded shortly thereafter as the hypo also contained a mild sedative.

Now, thought McCoy…onto the dirty work of cleaning up this grisly mess. It pained him to see Jim like this. However it wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with Jim and whip marks. When Jim came back from Triskelion he had been whipped as an example to the other slaves, or "thralls" as they called them. But those were nothing compared to what he was looking at now. The cuts were deep, ragged and had gone too long without treatment. So on top of the wounds, he now had to deal with an infection. At least Jim was mildly sedated now. It would make things go easier, although McCoy wasn't sure if it made it easier on him or Jim.

"Best get on with it, as Jim would say."

TBC


End file.
